At Any Cost
by AlexaBones
Summary: This is my version of what would have occured had Haymitch saved Peeta at the end of Catching Fire. Katniss returns from the capitol hijacked; Peeta and Gale battle for her affection and the revolution draws near. Peeta POV. I own nothing. R & R?
1. Reunion

Disclaimer: As much as I wish they were mine, all characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I own nothing. (My first fic, so please be nice...)

I just stood and took her in.

Over the past few weeks I'd spent hours pacing the bleak corridors of district 13, and each had its own eternity of sorrow. Her name was a part of me now, burned into my brain. It bound my soul, and resonated in the soft, wet beating of my heart. Sometimes I could even swear I heard it echo, as if the walls had actually started whispering to me: _Katniss. Katniss. Katniss. _As soon as I saw the hovercrafts over the arena I pictured seeing her again; not just our passionate reunion as the star-crossed lovers of district 13, but the real one too. The one where she would see my face and I would watch the fear melt away as she shed her tears of relief. I can't believe I ever let her out of my sight, so when she would hold me more tightly than she ever had before, I'd just let her. I would kiss her face then, her cheeks, her jawbone, her lips. Perhaps she would kiss me back. Perhaps it would even remind me of the night on the beach... But reality is cruel, and no such reunion would come.

I remember that first day with a dreadful kind of scorn; mocking my own naivety. I still hate myself for believing that we could truly be allowed to be together after what we had helped achieve in the arena. I passed out sometime during the journey, and I'm still unsure if it were really tiredness or some kind of drug injection that finally stole my consciousness. I woke in a hospital bed. The room was grey and dark. There were no windows, just a bare bulb hanging from a fitting, and a chair with grey clothes draped across the back. No belongings, but that didn't bother me. What made me anxious was when I realised I was alone. The room was only small enough to allow space for a single bed, so logically this was why I sat in solitude. Why couldn't I suppress the feeling of dread?

After sitting myself up and assessing the damage done to my body in the last few days, I decided that it could have been a lot worse, and I was grateful for that. I was scratched and bruised, and although there were stitches on my forearm where the tracker had been cut out, I found movement came more easily than I had anticipated. I had scoured each of the wards, and separate rooms of the hospital wing twice before Haymitch found me. He told me about 12.

Finally I was able to process where we were; the existence of 13, and the rage of the capitol once the arena had been destroyed. I was surprised to find that I didn't mourn my parents at the time; though they had already grieved my death at the first reaping. Mother especially had already said goodbye when she placed her hopes on Katniss. My brothers, however, left a gaping hole in my chest. It began to fester with the addition of each dead friend. I began to wonder if Delly had made it here, or if she had burned along with Madge... I could almost see their faces in the flames behind my eyes... _My fault._

It was then that I had to ask. I had to know. I immediately wished I had kept quiet. Haymitch took a breath, but before he could even speak I saw the look in his eyes. What I saw reflected was not joy but reluctance, and sadness, and an ageless regret. I knew then that all was lost. I stopped dead. Haymitch reached for my shoulder, an inadequate gesture of condolence. I found myself stumbling back from him, and could halt my tongue no longer.

"Don't," I begged, "don't tell me she's dead."

"No. Not dead. Though now we all wish she was," Haymitch replied. He used no more words than he felt were necessary.

"How can you say that?"

"Peeta..." It was the same look Haymitch gave me the first time he saw me after the announcement of the Quarter Quell. This was bad. Very bad. "Where do you think she is?..."

My hands started to shake, and it wasn't until I ran out of breath that I realised I was speaking. "No, no, no..." Haymitch stepped towards me again, and I started to feel like an animal caught in a snare; trapped and panicked while he moved in for the kill. Instead I became suddenly pumped with adrenaline. All of the guilt and frustration powered me forwards and onwards into this rage. "You promised me!" I screamed, "you told me you'd made your choice! You said if she died then none of this would matter; that you would protect her, that you would _help me_ protect her! You promised me and you lied! Why didn't you save her first?..."

Haymitch had tried to restrain himself, but a sliver of his drunken anger slipped through. "You see, that's your problem! You never think! You assume that everyone is as god-damned perfect as you are! Did you never stop to wonder if she had asked me the same thing? That it was your _turn_ to be protected? That maybe I just had to bet on the stronger contender? Maybe I'm just fed up of watching kids die over what I do and don't do? You're the better choice, the capitol like you better. The people of the districts would have preferred you to win."

I was momentarily stunned by this; "I don't believe you..."

"That doesn't matter."

Silence stretched out after that, an ocean of calm once the storm had disappeared as quickly as it came. However, these words could not be unsaid any more than the actions they depicted could be undone, and I know that eyes held malice, perhaps for the first time ever outside of the arena. I spoke just three words before I turned on my heel and retreated to my room, slamming the door behind me. "_Get her back_."

For days I did little else but slept and ate. Occasionally Delly would stop by my room to see how I was doing, or sit by me in the canteen. She knew better than to make small talk, but her persistence was endearing all the same, so I smiled at her. It wasn't a real smile, but it made her happy anyway. Eventually Haymitch gave me an outline of a plan to rescue Katniss, but it was never going to be enough because I knew he would never let me train for the retrieving squad. Johanna and Annie were missing too, and I found that Finnick's company became the most comforting, despite the fact that no words had passed between us since the arena. One afternoon, he caught my eye in the corridor. It was an almost physical pain; it was as if seeing a reflection of everything I felt.

Finnick came to me, and we sat in my room for hours, tying knots and trying not to think. Only Finnick truly understood my emptiness. I was certain that the same feelings of longing and inadequacy flowed through his veins, and grew as the dawn of the mission came closer. Gale was the squad leader. This left a bitter taste in my mouth. Gale had settled in extraordinarily well after 12 was destroyed, his affinity for military strategy meant that he and Coin became almost inseparable. He followed her around like a puppy, longing for approval. Now that they were in need of a Mockingjay for their revolution, they would try to save her. For their own gains. I tried to convince myself that it didn't bother me why they got her back, as long as they succeeded...

Now she stood before me.

We hadn't been given the privacy I would have liked, but it didn't matter; she was here. I took in her clothes, plain like mine, but black and dirty. From what I could see she didn't appear to have too many extra scars or burns, and no bandages or slings strangled her limbs. On some level I must have thought that was odd, but I was foolish. I got far too carried away in her presence to notice. As I greedily took in her features I remembered why her face would forever be in my memory. It remained the same as it always had been. Finally, I looked in her eyes. What I saw frightened me.

There was cold distance. There was something else there too, but it wasn't hope, nor longing...

"Katniss..." I found myself pleading with her, questioning her, adoring her, all in that one word.

I know that her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. Standing perfectly still, she spoke as a hiss. There was a deadly malice that I had never seen from her before, even in the arena:

"_Get away from me you mutt."_


	2. Question

Disclaimer: Unfortunately the characters still don't belong to me, but to the genius Suzanne Collins. For some parts of this I tried to stay close to the original, so sorry if some phrases sound familiar! Thanks for the favourites/reviews, it's really encouraging! Hope you like this one...

It took a while to convince myself that I would survive that kind of rejection again.

The doctors managed to gain a firm hold on her, but not before she snapped her arm forwards and raked her fingernails across the side of my face. It throbbed, a little more blood seeping out with each pulse, reminding me that this wasn't the nightmare I had hoped it to be. I was certain my nightmares would change now. I almost found myself begging for the days when I believed she wouldn't be coming back for me. At least then I could still delude myself that she would die missing me, caring for me, maybe even _loving me_. No such illusions remained.

Everyone else knew what had happened to her. Her own mother was throwing around words like "hijacked" and "venom", and the more I learned about it the more I wished I didn't understand. Not that they could care less. As far as they're concerned she's not far from being a perfectly functioning Mockingjay, and Coin practically pushed me aside to get to her. I laughed bitterly to myself as Gale followed closely behind her with Katniss' uniform in his arms. The sound was more of a strangled bark, and Haymitch raised an eyebrow at this while he glanced sideways at me. He seemed to appear from the very shadows in order to escort me back to my room. Most likely he was just following orders. I have no idea where my mind wondered on this particular journey, but I was suddenly jarred into awareness when we stopped outside my door. I kept my eyes down though the weighted silence. I would not be the one to break it - I had not failed today. I could sense that Haymitch was dissatisfied with this so I finally cast my vision to meet his.

I suppose I must have been waiting for an apology or an admission of guilt. However, no such words passed his lips, and I realise that I never really expected them to. After all, how much of this was really his fault? It looked as if he was conducting the same thought process, watching the blood drying on my face, willing himself to say something he'd later regret...

"Just say it," I said. It sounded more like an acceptance of defeat than a command; perhaps it was.

"Peeta-"

It was his letting-Peeta-down-gently voice, and with just one word it got right under my skin. Hearing it was like taking a shot of morphling; I could feel it changing my blood, making me capable of arguing when I believed myself to be run dry. "No. Don't 'Peeta' me. That's all anyone ever does anymore," I interrupted. "You knew this was likely... I was just a test wasn't I? Just to see if you were right... Another thing you've kept from me. Some team we are... Did you even consider what might have happened to me? Wait... yes, of course you did. You knew she'd want to kill me." my voice cracked. The tears I'd been holding back since I saw _her_ began to escape my eyes, mingling with the blood on my cheek as they silently passed over my lips. I knew I'd only be able to articulate one more thought, so I had to choose wisely. "You said it would be better if she'd died, but you were wrong. You should have saved her and I should never have left the arena at all."

It took him a while to form a response but at least he didn't try to disagree with me.

He sighed tiredly, as if he had just exerted himself trying to formulate the perspective that only Haymitch can possibly provide. "I'm not pretending everything's okay. It's not. She probably won't ever be the same again." The tears continued in earnest now. Salt stung the gashes on my cheek, adding to the downward spiral of pain I had so suddenly found myself trapped in. "But think about this: If I did as you asked and you were in her place, would she give up this easily? Let the capitol take everything you were? If you walk away from her now, without even _trying_ to help her, you don't love her as much as you think you do."

I took that as a dismissal and entered my room.

I heard the quiet click of the door shutting behind me, so I sank to the floor and put my head in my hands. It was all I was capable of at that point. Haymitch never said her name, and I thanked him silently for this small mercy. He was right though. If I wasn't fighting to save Katniss I didn't love her, and I wasn't fighting to relinquish the hold of the capitol either. The two things had merged together in the flames of the struggle; dark and light twisting until neither was recognisable to me. She's the hybrid daughter of the capitol... but if I let them have her, I let them have me too. I couldn't let them keep Katniss Everdeen any more than I could stand by and watch them steal Peeta Mellark.

That's when it hit me: I had another identity. I was the boy with the bread. So I returned to her.

All of Panem heard her recount the memory, but none of them saw it. It belonged to us alone and no amount of tracker-jacker venom could change it. As I approached the door I tried not to hope for too much. I failed, naturally, as I always did with Katniss. Fear began clawing its way up my throat, and for the briefest of moments I wondered if I really was the monster she perceived me to be. Why was I doing this to her? Was it really to save her, or was I just selfishly trying to prevent myself from having to exist without her? I caught sight of her through the window, and all previous thoughts ceased to matter. I knocked thrice to be polite, but entered regardless.

Her eyes flashed to mine immediately and I searched them for the emotions I'd seen earlier. Hatred was still there, but below that was curiosity, and the most startling of all: fear. The only other time I'd seen it that strongly was when we were fleeing the wolf muttations at the first cornucopia. I was vaguely aware of my mind making an association: this fear was only present when there was so much that could be lost... Neither of us spoke. She began to shake slightly, and it was then that I noticed the restraints holding her to the hospital bed. I choked.

"Katniss, please..." I begged her to understand, "I'm not going to hurt you... I'd never hurt you, I swear it."

She slammed her eyes shut tightly, as if guarding herself against the sound of my voice before it physically hurt her. "Don't lie to me. I know when you lie." She shuddered then, seeing horrors behind her eyelids that I could scarcely imagine.

"I've never lied to you, Katniss. The capitol lied to you. They've lied to all of us our whole lives. They changed your memories of me. They're the ones who hate me, not you." My voice was more controlled this time, and she slowly opened her eyes, considering what I'd said with a careful deliberation.

She smirked. "No, I definitely hate you." I wasn't expecting much better, but I was still too slow to prevent from flinching at her words. She saw it and her twisted smile faded. "You're always trying to kill me. You wanted to win the games yourself so you left me to join the careers; you trapped me in a tree; you sent me _back_ into the cornucopia again to save yourself from death; you dragged me into an ambush and then you tried to _poison_ me! Then you got me into trouble and it all happened again!"

Her tremors were becoming more and more frenzied, and once again adrenaline coursed through my veins. I didn't have long to salvage the situation before someone came to sedate her, so I just blurted out what I really came to discover:

"What about the bread, Katniss?" If anyone had seen her expression they might assume I had slapped her, despite remaining near the door. She stilled suddenly, her dark eyes wide with our untouched past. "I know you remember."

"The bread..." Her voice was a whisper, but I was sure I could have heard it across a thousand miles if I had to. "You burned it on purpose so you could give it to me... You saw me starving... Your mother _beat_ you. You _knew_ she would but you did it anyway..." I nodded in encouragement. I was unwilling to have this be the end of our ceasefire, but she was beginning to shake her head, as if to clear it of these irreconcilable facts. "Why would you save me?"

"That's what we do, Katniss. We save each other."

I didn't want to push my luck, nor did I want to upset her again, so I took one last look at her and turned to leave. I saw her studying the wall. She looked the same as she did back in district 12. We were in the same history class and I would watch her face as she tried to sift the truth from the recounting of events fed to us by the capitol. It seemed an age ago now, and I felt as if I possessed a sad wisdom beyond my years when I wondered whose idea it was to fight their wars with children.

I had just touched the door handle when she decided upon her final question. I had started turning back to her, but when she spoke my heart shattered for the second time that day and I couldn't bear to face her again. I felt a genuine nature to her gaze for the first time since her return. It was a knife that lodged further into my spine with every word:

"But why would I need you when I have Gale?"


	3. Discussion

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, and this story is mostly basking in the reflected glory of Suzanne Collins. I'm excited about this chapter! It's a bit darker in places, Peeta gets drunk, Gale is bitter and a little blasphemous, and Katniss isn't present (she features heavily in the next chapter though)... Points if you recognise where I got the nightmare from (sorry that it's _really_ close to the real scene in Mockingjay though). Enjoy!

Something snapped inside my brain, so my primary objective became to numb it.

Haymitch had been moved into the small grey room next to Katniss' that afternoon, presumably due to the commotion I caused in the early hours of this morning. She and Haymitch were always on the same page, so having him near her made sense. The door was ajar so it only creaked feebly when I cautiously pushed it open. I then checked up and down the corridor, trying to look innocent as I glanced in each direction. There were a few people bustling around with charts and test-tubes towards the far end but I was hardly conspicuous in my district 13 uniform, so I slipped inside. Thankfully Haymitch was elsewhere. I wasn't here for his advice; I was here for his liquor. Liquor that he undoubtedly would not wish to share with his rations so scarce this far underground. It caught my eye immediately. Only one item in the room showed that it was inhabited: a bottle of white rum, almost full. _That'll do nicely_, I decided.

The glass bottle was heavy in my hands, and as I surveyed the room I felt slightly guilty about taking it. He owed me though. He owed me, and he knew it. Maybe this would help close the gap - after all, if anyone knows about alcohol abuse as a coping mechanism it's Haymitch. I almost toasted to Katniss' good health, but it would have been a masochistic joke so I didn't. I unscrewed the lid and took my first big gulp. It was awful. It tasted like poison and it burned my mouth, but after just one sip I could already feel it rushing to my head... I was on a mission to forget, so I necked the bottle again. And again. Continually, until fire flowed through my veins.

I decided it would be unwise to drink the whole lot myself, if only because Haymitch would be blindingly mad when he discovered it gone. After attempting three times to place the bottle back where I found it, the hindrance of my current state of co-ordination forced me to just throw it down on the bed. It was around midnight when I began stumbling back towards my room. The lights had been dimmed for allocated sleeping hours, which added to the illusion that the walls weren't entirely stationary and I began to feel dizzy and nauseated.

This had been the worst day of my life. Considering I'd already lived through the Hunger Games and the Quarter Quell, the extent to which this was statement was true was quite startling. I felt a wave of anguish upon the realisation that I still couldn't forget a single moment of it. That's when it occurred to me that this was Haymitch's existence; permanently forced to remember that which it was his deepest desire to forget... My heart drowned for him - we'd never before been more profoundly identical than in this moment, and he didn't even know of its existence.

My reverie was shattered by approaching footsteps. I attempted to press myself against the shadowed wall to disguise the fact that I was breaking curfew, instead colliding fully with the oncoming soldier. I wished I didn't recognise the surprised grunt emitted by the owner of the footsteps. _Anyone_, I thought,_ please, anyone but him..._ I didn't have to look. I knew it was Gale. Of course it was Gale.

Recognition glinted in his eyes as he pushed me back to arm's length and sized me up. He dropped his arms to his sides, when his nose wrinkled he smirked with derisive amusement. "Hey, Lover Boy, you smell like a brewery."

He was playing games with me, so I kept it light too. "Technically, Hawthorne, I've been drinking spirits." It probably would have sounded wittier if I had been able to talk properly.

"Did you really need quite so much? You probably could've drowned your sorrows in a puddle; I bet even Prim could hold her liquor better than you," He chuckled.

This angered me in my inebriated state, so I dropped the pretence. "Well that's great; you can go ahead and add 'lightweight' to the list of things that make you better than me." It wasn't my intention to be so blunt, but let's face it: we both knew the other was fighting for her and it was about time it was out in the open. I wasn't really in any fit state to be discussing this, especially with Gale, but at least I had some liquid confidence on my side. I supposed that in a different reality our similarities may have sparked a friendship between Gale and I, but there's no point in wasting time with such thoughts now.

He let out a quiet laugh at this, sounding every bit as malevolent as I did. "You say that like you've not already married her."

He looked to the floor after that. He must have known it was a low blow, bringing up the farce of a wedding like that. I felt guilty enough for forcing her into going along with the lie; I didn't need other people commenting on it as well.

"You know that's not true. You shouldn't say it." My thoughts were becoming cloudier by the second and I was beginning to lose the capacity for enunciation. I must have slurred my words, because Gale's eyes held amusement and spite as they flicked towards mine.

"Have they told you about the miscarriage? The capitol's torture caused far too much stress for her to take." I would have been livid had he not lost his conviction part way through. I know he hates the idea of her hurt as much as I do, even if the baby could never have existed. That's when I saw it. Behind his icy facade, Gale was scared too. I felt intrusive, as if I were inside his head viewing his innermost thoughts and feelings. I could see it all, his world: Katniss would never have been reaped, so naturally I would never have met her - I would have died on live television before I had the courage to speak to her. Life would have gone on as he felt it was meant to. Of course, she would never have had children, but eventually she would have let him help her survive. It would have been inevitable. Except that it wasn't.

My eyes softened, now reflected in his, and I was on the brink of wishing that things could have been that way too. She would never have known me, would be back in 12, would be whole and alive as opposed to this... "You should go see her," I said. Apparently I was feeling more generous than I had realised. Perhaps Gale mistook empathy for pity, or perhaps it was just time for our evanescent truce to end.

"Hold it, Lover Boy, I'm not her keeper," he said.

"Are you her friend?" I demanded. "For someone who claims to lover her more than I do, you're terrible at showing it. I would trade places with her in a second if I could. Can you really say the same?" The fire that blazed in my heart also began to ignite behind his eyes, another reminder of how evenly matched we were. We were head to head at every turn.

"You don't see it do you? You've got this... this _opportunity_ now-" I quirked my eyebrow at this, and he pressed on to prevent me from interrupting, "-one that I'll never have: if you can do this, if you get her to remember herself, you're going to end up her saviour. She'll never forget it. She thought she owed you for a couple of loaves of bread for God's sake! She'd never leave you after that. It won't matter if I take down Snow's entire regime single-handedly, there's still no way I can compete with that."

This took me a few seconds to process. Part of me wanted to rejoice; it was like I'd been trying to piece together a puzzle without looking at the pieces properly until now. I was starting to think I could do this. There was, however, a part of Gale's logic which bothered me. I could tell he thought I wasn't going to reply. He was ready to leave but I had to say it, "I don't want her to choose me because she thinks she owes me. Never like that. I want it to be real..."

There was nothing left to say. We went our separate ways after that. I knew we'd both be trying twice as hard now. I checked over my shoulder when I reached my door, sloppily turning the handle, but Gale was long gone. I began to wonder if our conversation had really happened or if I had imagined it all in my stupor. After kicking the door shut a little too loudly behind me, I toed off my shoes as I walked across the room and collapsed straight onto the bed. I hadn't bothered to take off any clothes, or even get under the covers.

My mind was now plagued with a slightly different question. While I couldn't begrudge her a life with Gale in a world where we would never have crossed paths, what would Katniss do if our roles were reversed? If the rescue from the arena went differently and it was my feverish body that was currently strapped to the gurney, would she fight for me too? Would she be just as broken as I am, or would she still be standing strong? Would she find comfort in _his_ arms, his touch, _his_ _kisses_? I'd like to say that I know she wouldn't, but it's something I could never be certain about. There's a part of me that's glad to know she'll never have to make that decision, but it does little to soothe my thoughts when I know she has to choose sooner or later anyway.

I let unconsciousness take me.

In my nightmare, we're back in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. She has the berries in her hand, exactly the same as before, only this time she hasn't given me any. I look up from her hands to search her face in confusion. She begins to cry. That's when I realise what she's about to do. She closes her eyes, and before I can think I feel myself crashing towards her at full speed. I cover her open hand with mine just as she sinks her teeth into my flesh. Her eyes fly open as she yanks her head back in confusion. Blood courses down my wrist from the teeth marks on the hand I have clamped over the poisonous fruit.

"_Let me go!_" she snarls, trying to wrest her arm from my grasp.

"I can't," I say.


	4. Confession

Disclaimer: As much as I wish they were mine, all characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I own nothing. A hint of Katniss/Peeta in this one – hope it hasn't happened too fast! Reviews would be lovely, because I have no idea how I'm doing...

I hadn't seen her in a week.

Preparations for Finnick and Annie's wedding took place in that time because she, at least, had adjusted well to being in 13. It didn't take long - Annie returned to herself as soon as she heard his voice. The mere sight of them dragged my heart into my throat; seeing my dreams played out from an untouchable distance felt as if some higher power had decided to spit on me from the heavens. Worse than that, I couldn't help but feel happy for them - nobody could. Even with the revolution on the brink of failure, with the Sword of Damocles dangling on its tenuous thread, happiness was possible. Love triumphed in the darkest of places, and hope, however hard we tried to ignore it, could not be extinguished in the light of their presence.

Haymitch told me that I was to frost the cake. He hadn't quite forgiven me for my breakdown yet and we both knew it was better to stay occupied than give in to the gathering shadow. Mrs Everdeen threw herself into being a full-time healer these days and I began to wonder if it was because she, like my own mother last year, had already grieved her child despite the fact that both our hearts were still beating.

The girl on fire had become a burned out shell.

I was forbidden from seeing Katniss until "further notice"; an indefinite sentence for my foolish behaviour. Prim was given clearance to see her most days in order to answer her questions and assist the consolidation of her memory. She told me about a game she'd invented to help. It was called "Real or Not Real", and allowed Katniss to recall a series of events and for Prim to explain the motivations of those involved. Her innocence and faith in humanity were working better than any anti-venom. She told me that Katniss had made some big improvements but I was unsure if this was a real observation or something that we both wanted to believe. Nevertheless, I tried to give her a real smile that didn't resemble a grimace, and hugged her small frame close whenever she opened her arms towards me.

Now, leaning against the back wall of the make-shift registry, I waited.

A couple of the soldiers had cameras, which increased the feeling of uneasiness that had settled in my stomach. Coin had allowed the wedding so that it could be recorded for a short propaganda film to be snuck onto every screen in Panem, coupled with footage from a recent hospital visit that Gale organised. It had had turned into a raid and the hospital was bombed. The uprising was beginning. All they were missing was a Mockingjay.

I was dressed in the finest clothes that I had available, and I had to suppress the memories of the 74th victory tour as I surveyed the crowded room. I noticed Haymitch sitting not too far away, and decided to make my way over. He caught my eye as I approached, and his gaze held understanding as he took a swig from a hip-flask he'd concealed in his jacket pocket.

"I know," he said.

It was all that needed to be said. I sat beside him as the wedding commenced. Naturally it was a small service; the guests consisted mainly of soldiers befriended by Finnick and a few of the tributes that were rescued after the Quarter Quell. Katniss, however, was nowhere to be seen. Plain metal rings had been exchanged and were followed by kisses and applause, after which we were invited to follow the couple through to the dining hall for a reception.

It was then that I saw her. She stood by a small table positioned against the opposite wall; her back was towards us and her hair was in the intricate braids that I recognised from the reaping. She wore a mid-length, pale yellow sun-dress and some plain black shoes. Haymitch nudged me forwards once he recognised the direction of my attention, and after a reassuring glance from Finnick, I walked towards her.

She must have known of my approach; I was never soft enough in my footfalls and my shoes quietly slapped against the floorboards, yet she did not turn towards me. She was within arms' length when I realised what held her vision so intently. Her delicate fingers were curled around a small frosted flower that she had plucked from the wedding cake.

"Dandelions," she said, "you made little dandelions." She sounded as if her mind was far away, and I almost placed a hand on her shoulder before I remembered that I shouldn't.

"Yes," I said, "Annie's favourite colour is yellow, so Prim suggested them to me."

She continued to look down as she spoke. "She told me she talks to you. She trusts you."

"I'm glad," I replied, and smiled tentatively at her. The corners of her mouth quirked briefly, but her eyes remained guarded as she turned to face me.

"You don't look like a victor," she decided. "You're not particularly big or anything – It's just that I'm smaller than you."

I shrug because there's not really a response to this. I don't want _anyone_ to think I look like a killer. "I'm only alive because of Haymitch."

She picked up on the deviation from the nonchalant tone I had tried to keep. "You wanted him to choose me. Real or not real?"

"Real," I said, "I made him promise he would. He just... didn't."

She watched me frown. "You must have loved me a lot," she said.

My heart broke for her. It broke for the whisper of emotion that she can't quite recall, for every kiss that's been stolen from us, for the nightmares that bait us both until we wake to find that they're real... "_I do_." My voice cracked and I didn't bother trying to hide it.

She looked at her shoes. Her hands started to shake and her breathing got a little louder, but she stayed put. Prim must have been watching because she seemed to appear out of nowhere to take Katniss' hand, pulling her sister out of her reverie. "I hope you're being nice to Peeta," she said, and she flashed me a smile.

Katniss looked up at her with pleading eyes, "Prim..."

"No, Katniss, I've told you. All he's ever done has been to help you. I trust him. If you don't trust him then it means you don't trust me either." With that, she took my hand and placed Katniss' in my open palm before either of us could object.

Katniss shuddered once, violently, and her eyes grew wide. I opened my hand to drop hers, when she clamped down on it hard and slowly closed her eyes. All I could do was watch her eyelashes flutter lightly as she took a deep breath, trying her hardest to remember my touch as safety and familiarity. At that moment, Johanna brushed past Katniss on her way to the food and winked at her when her head whipped round to check the disturbance.

"Knew you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to let Snow see you dancing." She smirked as she gestured towards the cameras with a nod of her head and then continued on her way. Prim looked at the pair of us, gave me an encouraging pat on the arm, and bounced along to follow Johanna's path.

Katniss looked at our currently entwined hands, and proceeded to search my eyes. Whatever she found there must have confirmed her decision to stay; she took a step closer. I could smell soap and flowers, and a kind of woody scent that belonged to her alone. She seemed determined to surprise me at every turn, and her next words did just that: "One more time? For the audience?" She must have known I would remember them from the train home after our first games. Her gaze reflected the hollow feeling that saturated my voice that day. I saw her eyes change then, and watched her muster her courage for what felt like the thousandth time. She silently reached to place my other hand on her hip and led us towards the other dancing couples.

She kept enough distance that she could keep her eyes locked with mine at all times as we waltzed in small circles. I knew she probably still didn't trust me, perhaps she didn't even like me, but she was here regardless. That was all that mattered. She was holding my hand and smiling a small smile, and even though I knew it wasn't for me, for a moment I was almost able to pretend that the hijacking hadn't happened. We were reincarnated, the star-crossed lovers, from the ashes of her blaze.

The music drew to a close and we stilled, making my heartbeat thump yet more loudly in my ears. She dropped her hands and took a step back so that mine too fell limply by my sides. They already ached in her absence.

"You tried to stop me getting you the medicine from the cornucopia," she said, "I had to drug you so I could go. I saved your life. I saved your life because you were the reason I was alive to do it... I know that... But I don't know you. Baker. Painter. Killer. Liar. Friend. Ally. Lover. Mutt. I don't know which are real. I don't know who you are. And I don't know what I am..."

I tried to keep quiet and just let her say what she wanted to say, but the words came flowing through me before I could stop them: "You're a hunter and a strategist. Your favourite colour is green. You got your sister a goat for her birthday. You always have sugar in your tea, and when you sing... even the birds stop to listen."

A single tear dropped from the bottom of her lashes and began to curve over her cheek.

I turned on my heel and fled before I could do something stupid like kiss her.


	5. Absolution

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins!

Author's note: Sorry its been so long! I'm getting back into my creative writing in a really big way now though, expect more chapters and maybe even experiment with Divergent (if you haven't read it – do. Its amazing.) This is a relatively short chapter to get back in the swing of things, but I hope you like it, thanks for sticking with the story.

I hastily turned a few corners that I hoped would eventually lead me to my room. My breath was coming in jagged gusts, and soon I had to stop to collect my thoughts. I needed to process what had happened while it still felt real.

It wasn't long before Katniss caught up with me. Naturally I didn't hear her approach; however much of herself is still missing, she remains the silent predator... The errant thought acts as a succinct reminder of the darkness that waits beyond our walls. From where I leant against the wall I could see her feet not far from mine. They looked so dainty that part of me wanted to weep for the innocence that she could never have afforded to have. I look up to face her, almost reluctantly, so uncertain of which version of my beloved awaits me. But when I see her face, all thoughts escape me.

She's closer than I expected, and I know exactly how much space there is between us. 6 inches. Its closer than we've been since I care to remember, and her brilliant green eyes shine with more unshed tears. Her cheeks have blossomed pink, and I can see where she's bitten her lower lip, probably during the few seconds she must have spent debating whether or not to follow my abrupt exit. A few strands of her hair have escaped from her braids and it's the most quintessentially "Katniss" thing I can remember – she's beautiful. I'm speechless, drawn like a moth to her catching embers, absentmindedly closing the distance between us. I don't know how much time passes until I feel her hand on my arm, snapping me out of my reverie. I can't help but feel saddened by how thin and wraith-like her fingers are; District 13 haven't allowed for over-compensating her rations. They see her as being _lucky_ to be here. I suddenly realise just how much I've been regarding our new "home" as a prison. The timetables are compulsory, the rations are set. No exceptions.

I draw my sullen gaze back to her face and her eyes are closed. At first hope flares within my chest that she remembers, that she's content to enjoy silence with me as we used to once upon a time... Then I see how strained the muscles are in her face and wordlessly chastise myself for once again tripping over my own desires. She's concentrating hard, controlling her breathing. Her lashes flutter as she assesses the situation, sensing her surroundings as she does with her bow and arrow. I close my eyes too. Her cool touch is comforting despite her state of unease. I decide that I don't need to say anything, not until she does.

But Katniss doesn't speak. She kisses me. My eyes fly open in shock as her lips cautiously press against mine, hesitant at first. I can tell that she's still analysing her feelings for me, always trying to find out how far she can test herself. And that's fine for now. Neither of us moves for a second. I close my eyes. I doubt I'd care if she decided to hurt me now; if she killed me on the spot the last thing I'd feel on this earth would be the perfect mould of her lips on mine...

Before I can know what's happening, fire catches. I don't want to do anything to startle her, but her hand had already worked its way up my shoulder and into my hair. She makes a fist in my hair and closes the distance between us, pressing herself against me. We're kissing in earnest now. For a split second I wish I could know what she was thinking, but then she runs her tongue along my lower lip. I open my mouth and taste her for the first time since the arena and my mind goes blank to everything except Katniss. The sugar from the frosting is still sweet on her tongue. My arms move to her waist, almost of their own accord – a muscle memory, shedding light on how things once were...

As suddenly as it began, the embrace is broken. She jolts away from me, eyes wide with shock. There's more than a foot between us now, but my skin continues to hum with warmth from moments earlier. I run my hands nervously through my hair, willing myself to think of something to say. Something that's _ours_. She hasn't moved. A lump forms in my throat, just as it did on the train back to 12, just as it did the first time I realised I had no idea if I mean anything to her.

"Katniss... I..." I have no idea what I'm going to say, but I have to say something, I can't just let her leave.

A can see a shudder run down her body and she squeezes her eyes tight, tensing to contain it. "I don't want you", she says. The words are ground out between clenched teeth. My heart drops. "So why...?" her face falls as she opens her eyes, and I glimpse the old Katniss. However fleeting, she returns to me: "Why is it like this, Peeta?"

She turns on her heel and without a backward glance she's gone. It's not her usual, calculated, efficient gate. She fled, and I know she won't return. The corridor appears somehow more sterile in her absence. What feels like a lifetime passes while my gaze is glued to the spot where I last saw her face. My mind reels. I feel like a child. The whole situation was so unexpected, and now that she's gone it would be easy to believe that it had never happened at all... Was it real or not real? Perhaps Haymitch and the rest of them were correct in their assessment of "Poor Peeta". A wave of bitterness catches me off guard, though now the end point is familiar, as once again I want to kick myself for continually believing my own lies. As with all things in this world, it doesn't last long, and by the time I reach my room, the numbness has returned.


	6. Competition

Disclaimer (I keep forgetting these) – Unfortunately, I still don't own anything!

I looked for Katniss in the canteen the next morning, but my luck had run dry. I rubbed my eyes roughly, trying to shed the veil of yet another sleepless night. I wasn't the only one. The last few weeks had been tough on most, venturing out to brave the other derelict districts with their Mockingjay, inciting others to join their cause. Behind me I hear a raised voice from across the room, but my mind is still too foggy to pick up the specific words. My muscles feel like a dead weight but I twist in my chair, drawn to the exchange without yet realising why. I tense up almost immediately - it's Gale. He's talking to Haymitch. I didn't even realise they knew each others' names, _but then_, I think bitterly, _both would like to keep me out of the loop for one reason or another_.

I strain to hear what follows, but Haymitch has placed a warning hand on Gale's arm, restraining him. Gale's face twists into a bitter contortion as he whispers fervently, glancing in my direction. A jolt goes through me as I realise I've been caught looking, and I scan the room pretending to search for someone else. I feel a gust of air against my back as Gale strides past me on his way out, like a wave breaking on a rock. I could almost feel his anger rolling off him in those waves. Haymitch is already staring at me by the time my gaze returns to where they stood, and I take it as a summoning. No longer feeling mentally subdued, I decide to abandon the grey sludge that district 13 likes to pass off as porridge and drag myself up to meet him.

"I think we best take this outside" he says. His expression is guarded, but I'm not worried yet. Whatever he can say that rattles Gale's cage can't be too bad for me... can it? I follow him out of the canteen, back the way I came. My uneven footsteps echo as loud plods and a few heads rise from their breakfasts to judge the situation. I shouldn't be surprised really; news travels fast here, always in varying degrees of truth.

"What's going on?" even though it's a question I try to make it sound like a demand. I haven't had too much contact with Haymitch over the last few days, and whether or not he knows what happened after the wedding, I refuse to play Poor Peeta today. Surprise at my outburst fleets briefly across his face, followed by a calculating look.

"Thing have been... progressing... with the propos in the other districts. It's been decided by Coin that it is now time to infiltrate the Capitol." My eyes widen before I can school my face into a mask of indifference, and just as I open my mouth he surges on. "Naturally, Katniss has already gone. Coin has assigned a few of her soldiers... Boggs? Jackson? Whatever, they're just squaddies anyway. They've gone too. So Gale wants in; Finnick too I reckon... Coin is allowing it. Probably 'cause she assumes she can squeeze out a few more propos if there's some of the old victors."

I mull this over for a few seconds, wondering what could have angered Gale about this. Is it not his perfect situation? Perhaps he doubts Coin's men, though I dismiss this thought quickly. Finding out that Coin tolerates incompetence is about as likely as hearing that she's eloped with Snow. I don't get it. I can't help but look slightly confused.

"So what's ruffled _his _feathers then?" I don't need to clarify who. I glimpse a look on Haymitch's face that I recognise all too well – he's withholding information. Anger swells in my chest for what must be the thousandth time. "Haymitch, cut the crap. You know you have to tell me, so just do it!" While sugar-coating was never his style, avoiding the subject most certainly was.

"Come on, Loverboy, you should've guessed this already", he says sharply. Then he hesitates slightly, looking as though he's about to put a small animal out of its misery, "You're going too."

Adrenaline thrums in my veins and I become acutely aware of my heart beating frantically in my chest, accelerating as I consider the implications of the news. I can see in my periphery that he's studying my reaction, but I ignore Haymitch. I need to think. My presence could jeopardise the whole mission if we're not careful, but everyone knows this already and yet the order's been sent. Is it safe to be fighting by Katniss' side, or is it that Coin just intends for her to kill me – am I more useful by being alive or dead? _Which of us is expendable?_ I already know I won't be thinking about tactics, I never could even from the beginning. I'll be thinking about Katniss. At least this way I'll be able to protect her however I can. I realise that I've been sitting here unpurposed; blissfully unaware that she's already left and has been facing whatever perils Snow has been letting roam the streets. It makes me feel like a dam about to burst with unbridled force. No, I can't stay here.

"Your transport is at 0700 tomorrow," Haymitch says. Then he does something very unlike himself: he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I try to focus on his face and realise that I cannot smell the familiar scent of whisky and gin that usually accompanies his shallow breathing. He looks as though he's thinking hard about what to say, though I hadn't figured him to be one for emotional good-byes. "Peeta... Just stay alive, okay? ...They only want you in there for the cameras, just give them want they want and don't get blown up."

With that he lopes away, his head hung in contemplation; sober Haymitch is a solemn site. I decide I need a walk to clear my head.

No sooner than I set foot outside into the compound I see Gale. I try to weave a new path, give him some space – I didn't mean to dislike him, under different circumstances we might well have been friends, back in 12 and going to school together had none of this ever happened – had I never spoken to Katniss. I could almost see it in my mind's eye, how he thinks things should have been. But reality is harsh to us all, and this is the only circumstance we know. So we don't speak.

I understand why Gale was so agitated. If we're being sent to the capitol it means that the next few days will be fundamental. _It's make or break_, I tell myself. The flame brought to life by the star-crossed lovers of district 12 will either consume the evil we seek to destroy, or it will burn us from the inside out until there's nothing to bury but ashes. I feel a tonne heavier. Could it be that we alone will either raise the world to glory or leave it to die in the darkness? I recall my conversation with Gale after her return, and realise he was right – I do have a chance to save everything I believe in, and I feel for him.

Later however, as I'm finally handed my holo, I look at the stamp on my hand. _451_. Same as Boggs and Finnick, same as Gale. We reach the landing pad and the sound of the wind generated by the hovercraft floods my senses. Despite this, or perhaps even because of the chaos going on around me, a resolve forms deep within my core. A small thought emerges from the forgotten recesses of my brain. It's an old quote from my school days: _all's fair in love and war. _And this, I think as I duck my head to climb into the hovercraft, is undoubtedly both.


End file.
